


An Uncommon Love

by laEsmeralda



Series: Arwen's Book of Secrets [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 06:39:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5858263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laEsmeralda/pseuds/laEsmeralda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aragorn is a typical, territorial and flawed human. Some important people understand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Uncommon Love

Their loving is the most spectacular beauty I have ever witnessed. No sunset, no waterfall, no work of art could parallel the sight of them entwined together. It was that powerful for me the first time I saw them together, and it continues to be, even in the more simple moments between them. 

Aragorn is freed. I admit that I worried his passion for me would diminish in the arms of Legolas. It was a silly notion of limited love doled out by measures. My mind knew better but my greedy heart doubted. Even so, I could not stand for him to deny an essential part of himself so deeply. We have suffered beyond tolerance already.

If anything, Aragorn seeks me more now that he is at peace with himself. And other good has come of it all. Before, he was always so very tender, even when I was wild and wished for him to match me. At last, he understands the power and strength of the elves in these matters, and of both his loves, more particularly. 

I have an elven companion once again. It is an unusual companionship, even for our kind. I have grown accustomed to the smell of Legolas on Aragorn, and my husband's scent lingers on my friend. The two have become mingled in spirit and in my senses.

I deeply miss Legolas when he is gone to the Shire or to ride out with Gimli. Legolas is away more than he is here, and his absences will soon grow from weeks to months. Before long, I believe he will be living at Bag End. Frodo's illnesses impress upon us all the particular fragility of his life, and Legolas feels that now like a knife in his body. He knows that Frodo will leave soon to seek healing over the sea. 

For a time, I feared that Legolas would leave us when Frodo does. His love for Frodo is deeper than even he would have guessed. I would have done nothing to discourage Legolas from leaving Middle Earth, despite the pain the thought of losing him brings. Who would have thought, after all the suffering, that Legolas would face such an impossible choice? I could tell him, without the reproach we hear when others lecture us, that this is the price of loving mortals as we do. 

Once again, Frodo is more generous than others would be in his place. For the journey to Valinor, he will refuse the company of the one he has most loved in his life. He has threatened to stop seeing Legolas, now and forever, without mercy, if Legolas does not give his solemn promise to remain in Middle Earth until I either pass into death or over the sea. 

Frodo gives his beloved no choice. I could have given my place in the ships to no better person.  
*******

When my friend returns to Minas Tirith, I know the step of his horse, and must restrain myself from running to him. Truth be told, Legolas is only my second friend in my life to Galadriel. I name Aragorn to a category alone as my one love, though our friendship is steadfast in its own right. As Queen, I may not acquire new friends. I had not anticipated this price, though there was no bargaining for the price of my choice in any event.

Since the wedding, I have longed for Galadriel’s company. It is always difficult to think of her as my grandmother, she is more my peer. We write, we speak to each other in quiet moments of the mind when neither is distracted, but she cannot be present to me or I to her as we once were. Though the countryside is finally peaceable enough for me to travel safely, I have no time for those indulgences. Soon, she will leave these shores as will my father. Even the letters will cease, and I will be alone among my husband's people.

Except for Legolas. Unlike the others, I believe he does understand my choice. He is so unlike me yet we are the same. I have chosen one love of the body and a solemn bond of mortality. He divides himself between Aragorn and Frodo, and others when diversion calls him, without neglecting any. He maintains his immortality, for he is not Elrond's child. He may stay, or go to our kin, as he chooses from moment to moment. For him, there is no clarity of choice, no feeling at peace that the task of choosing is finished. 

We have both long ago lost our mothers to the West. Our fathers loom large in our lives in very different ways. Thranduil sent his son to the Council and the fray, trusting him above all. I would like to know more of their relationship. Legolas has deep love of his father that shines from him at the sound of Thranduil's name, but he rarely speaks of him in substance. In contrast, we speak often of Elrond, trying to understand the complexity of his life, his choices, and his love for his children, none of whom is leaving with him; I can no longer bear to call him Lord Father behind his back. Thranduil plans to move to Ithilien that we might all be closer, the last elves in Middle Earth. Soon I will meet him and soon, my own father will leave.

Some days, when Aragorn and I have attended to our many duties, I find myself tired in a peculiar way, for time is now in my mind as so swift. It is the influence of this massive human presence that causes me to focus on what ill might come to spoil these days of beauty. 

Legolas will find me standing at a window, or in the garden, listless with the weight of these thoughts, and suddenly, the world around me grows bright again. His silvery presence wraps itself around me, and he sways with me to some silly childhood tune. Soon we are laughing, and I am reminded how fortunate I truly am.  
*******

I allow only the most trusted elves to attend our chambers. For my kind, discretion is important, but what transpires among the three of us is no scandal to them. Legolas is careful, outside of absolute privacy, not to touch me in any way that others might mistake. It would not be possible or helpful to explain to the humans the truth if they thought their King betrayed. 

Without Aragorn, Legolas and I are like small children before the change of many seasons made the differences stirring, sleeping close, bathing together, combing one another's hair. We sing together in the daylight, for the joy of it, and for another reason. If any of the night songs are overheard, despite our pains to prevent it, the hearer will at least not be startled into taking further notice. 

When I am lonely for the far away elven forests, he pulls me into that great chair he likes and holds me, singing me to comfort. I still wonder how, in his powerful arms, I can feel no lust for him. 

We love each other, this, I cannot doubt. His voice, his smell, his touch, they are all delightful to me, yet he stirs me not. Even when our naked bodies slip past one another in play with Aragorn, as they often do, I never feel a vibration of response toward him or back toward me.   
*******

Sometimes, Legolas, I remember that I mean to give this secret book to you one day, and I address directly to you the things I do not say. At other times, I tell the tales as if to a yet unknown confidant. 

It is all for you really, this entire book, but I cannot always use this voice for what I say, else, I would be able to speak these things to you in present time. I speak them to Aragorn, and he reads my words at times, for our bond is altogether different. 

I also write for a selfish reason -- rarely are women's words carried forward into history, and thus, much is lost.

You are gone again to the Shire. I would travel with you to see dear Frodo once more, but I do not wish to intrude upon your time together, it is already too little. So I send a letter with you to him, so that he might be reminded of my love and thoughts for him.

We have been together in a rare way, you and I. Our connection with Aragorn is so strong that you can feel me, and I you, through our lover's response to each of us. You have guided my husband in knowing me. You have been brought to release by my pleasure as it tears through Aragorn, and by skills of mine that he has learned. Yet, when you and I touch directly, it is as though we have no capacity for passion. There is no shiver, only love.

I have burned at seeing my husband's mouth at work on your marvelous body. The sight of Aragorn's tongue swirling over the exquisitely rounded tip of your shaft is enough, with the slightest touch of my own fingers, to take me over the edge to the blinding light. I love to see you beside yourself this way, back arched as you pour yourself into Aragorn. It is an expression, painted before me in vivid colors, of what I feel with this man I love. Whom we love.

But looking on you alone in your nakedness does not move me. I have had many opportunities to test that fact. It is a strange thing.

Aragorn alone is a different matter. He is every bit as brown and earthy as you are of the treetops and middle air. I watch him move, doing simple things, and I cannot breathe. His sweat, his scars, his faster heartbeat, I am ever besotted with him. How we ever bore being apart so long, so many times, is beyond my ken now. 

That I can know, without pain, that he spends time with you when I am not there -- and yes, that it warms me -- is a testament to this uncommon love. 

Today, after watching you two for what seemed like hours together, I lay on my side, flashing hot and cold with the passion I had contained all that time. Aragorn curled behind me, at last plunging deep inside to my great, sobbing relief. He was with me, one hand on my shoulder and one on my hip as he moved within me, but was also distant, concentrating on his last shred of control. I wanted him to be with us even if he could not last.

You moved away from him then and settled on your side facing me. I felt your cool hand on my face. You, who had sung to me not moments before of the ecstasy you found once again with him, were now entirely calm. 

"You are exhausted from waiting, Beauty, we should not have left you wanting for so long."

Your voice is a marvelous sound, and at that moment, it made tears flow. I knew my breath was heavy and I did not speak in return. My face burned under that cool hand. 

"I will help," you said. I watched, stunned, as you grasped the brown hand that rested on my hip and guided it between my legs. But then you did not let go as I expected. Instead, you used Aragorn's fingers under your own to touch me, for he was far away and unable to feel me. You cradled my face so I could not turn away from your eyes. 

Looking at me the whole while, you began speaking to Aragorn, love words of praise and heat, using his name over and over, calling him back from wherever he had retreated. I could feel Aragorn's mind return, and his thrusts became more insistent. It did not take long for me to reach that place of bursting, just behind my beloved's cry.  
*******

Galadriel warned me of his powerful effect. I already knew that effect upon Aragorn in those early days of their meeting in Rivendell, though both were yet unaware of it. Galadriel jested that in all her years of marriage, she had no call toward another until Legolas entered her realm, and then, even Nenya could not shield her from his call. 

If his effect upon other elves and elf-kind, to whom a high degree of beauty is ordinary, is that great, humans must be struck dumb at meeting him. Aragorn, raised among us, was more prepared. But then, it is not just the physical beauty of Legolas that is extraordinary; it is his spirit that moves us. Hence, his blazing temper when it is aroused is as compelling as his grace, and the flaw in his upper lip is a sweetness of imperfection.

I have been glad to ease Galadriel's mind that things are not more complicated, and she is bemused with my resistance. I have explained it the only way I could, that he and I are the same body, female and male, dark and light. I could hear her laughter in her script as she replied with her usual frankness that she finds it unlikely I would be unresponsive in this way to my own touch.

I have spoken with Legolas about this, there is no need for shyness with him. 

We lay together in bed one morning, gleeful that we were not needed or wanted at the early summit of dignitaries to which Aragorn grumbled off in the still-dark before dawn. Snuggled under the blankets, holding each other for warmth, we spoke of many things. He told me of his changing love for Frodo, and how he fears for the hobbit's health. He also spoke of the astonishment he felt at Frodo's skills as a lover.

I marveled to learn of the ent-elixir. I had somehow imagined a perfect innocent when I looked upon the flush of Frodo's cheeks each time. That Legolas could shudder at mere remembrance of an afternoon with him said much of my mistake.

"There is more, Arwen. While we were still here at the castle, Frodo confessed to me that sometimes, he thinks of Aragorn with me, as he saw us once in Lorien. You will never suppose why he does this." Legolas looked pained.

"In truth, I am certain for the same reason I do," I replied softly, "because I am compelled."

"I think not. He says that he knows being with Aragorn is what makes me most happy, so that is what he imagines."

"Selfless Frodo."

"Indeed. I was taken aback, and in a fit of whimsy, I asked Frodo to add himself to his thoughts of us together." 

I must have looked startled, for he raised a finger to stop me from speaking. 

"I love him so, I was desperate to make him feel as wanted as he is."

"I am not certain that is the answer, my friend."

"I have realized that and am making amends." Legolas' voice took on an amused quality. "What Frodo did with this idea, however, was extraordinary. I tell you this not to suggest any such thing would ever occur -- Aragorn marvels ever at Frodo, and loves him, but does not dream of his touch -- but to tell you that Frodo drew you in as well."

"Indeed?" I know I looked shocked then, for Legolas laughed at me.

"Do not worry, you will smile when I tell you. He placed the words in Aragorn's mouth that if allowed, you would spoil the Ring-bearer by hand feeing him chocolates until he burst."

I did laugh. "He is an evil hobbit to wish a queen to deal with him so, but I would. When he was here, it took all my dignity not to embarrass him with such attentions. Had I known he wished it... although I would not do so if it moved him _that_ way."

"It is desire for the bliss of comfort, not the heat of passion, that draws him to you. Frodo is an orphan, and it has been long since he had a mother or sister's touch. Think of it that way. We are always safer to open ourselves to others when we are loved by our family. He needed your presence in some way to be brave enough to try something new."

"At that, I feel better, though sad for his losses. He deserves such happiness."

Legolas grew quiet for a few moments, stroking my hair. "Soon I will go to stay in the Shire with Frodo for as long as he will have me."

"I know. It is well, yet painful. I will miss you terribly, as will Aragorn, but it seems we will have somewhat of a future together." I wished then to distract him from his pain. This seemed as good a time as any to ask. "I must ask, my friend, for the sake of understanding. Why do you not want me?" 

He could read my tone as curious, without desire, and smiled a devilish smile. "Why do you not want me?" He mirrored back a fair question in return.

"I do not know, but I ponder it, do you not?"

"Yes."

"For your part, I have wondered if you have lost all desire for women."

"No, it is not at all that," he chuckled.

"Really?" I raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Tell me." 

He lifted on one elbow, toying with a lock of my hair. "Just last evening, I danced with that sprite of a cousin of yours, Ravenna. We shared wine, and I found myself in sudden heat. She is... winsome." His body immediately responded to the thought of her, and he made no move to conceal it, simply continued speaking, "She is a naughty one, for as soon as she felt me harden, her hand was on me even in the thick of the crowd." 

I was delighted to hear this, why, I cannot say, and I clapped my hands together. "What did you do?"

"The only thing I could do to save myself for this bed at the appointed hour. I drew her to an alcove and pleasured her with my hands alone." I sighed at his words, thinking how nice it must be to seek such release and not worry about the robes of state or who might learn of it. He continued. "I did not let her touch me again, but she was nevertheless most diverting. And it is helpful for such rumors to circulate."

"You are wicked."

"I am becoming more so. I have been insatiable of late." His eyes flicked back to mine. "I say these things to answer your question, and not at all to slight you. Ravenna has not one fragment of your sensuality. It is strange, you are the most desirable woman ever to escape me." 

"That is a lovely way to put it," I replied, touched. I could feel that the body memory had faded for him. 

Suddenly, he flipped back the sheets to look at me, sliding a contemplative white hand along my breast, waist, and hip. "It is not that you escape my notice. So, in fairness, I do not understand it myself. I think we know that my will is not so strong as to overcome my desire. If I were but curbing my true want, we would all know it. I should not be able to look upon you or caress you without flooding heat."

"I have felt the same distance." I touched his face and searched the depths of his eyes.

"It is a gift we have been given, a most strange gift. You have opened your heart and home to another to make Aragorn happy, but you do not seek another yourself. Aragorn slept between your two brothers as a child, and sleeping between two lovers is not so strange to him. It may even be of comfort. I have never shared a bed with two people for very long before," he chuckled, "it is always fraught with complication even among the broad-minded and unjealous."

"And Aragorn is not unjealous."

"No." He paused for a moment, a grin spreading.

"What? You must tell me."

"In the stables last week, as we curried the horses together, Aragorn made an unusual request of me."

"How so?"

"He leaned his head on Hasufel's shoulder and whispered to me to please be careful not to enter you by mistake during our play or take you in my sleep. He seemed horrified with himself, but could not bring himself not to speak of it. It took all my fortitude to meet his eyes afterward without laughing." 

I giggled. "If only he knew how little he has to fear. What did you tell him?"

"The truth. That in this, I only desire him. He replied that he knew we would never betray him, but that a mistake could easily occur in our passion."

"A mistake." My lips twisted with suppressed mirth.

"Yes." 

"He is impertinent. You should ask our beloved if he has ever known his most trusted archer to miss." Legolas tackled me and we rolled off the bed in hysterics. Finally, we sobered again.

"Somehow, we must make him clear on this. Of course he cannot understand. He desires us both, and we are both desirable to others, so how can we not be drawn to each other? We can hardly understand it ourselves." 

"Thank you for the compliment," I said as soberly as the situation would allow. "Perhaps a demonstration then? Are you absolutely without concern?" I looked up into his eyes, absolutely without concern myself. He was pressed to my full length, every inch of our skins unclothed, yet for me it was like lying against the sunny, flowered bank of a river, happy, pleasant, but not at all arousing.

"Arwen," he smiled, widely, "not even corpses could withstand this. We are safe."

So we determined to prove ourselves to the disbeliever. We knew it would be easy for Legolas. A woman's desire is not so clear and is more easily concealed. But there are ways.  
*******

When the three of us were next together, Legolas and I presented a unified front to our temporary adversary.

"It has come to my attention, my love, that you are concerned that Legolas and I might unconsciously wish to overstep certain bounds in this relationship." I kept my chin high. 

Aragorn glowered at Legolas. "He should not have told you. This is a matter between men." 

I laughed. "It has long ceased to be that. I do not hear you complain that it is a matter between men when our bed is more crowded of late." He had the good grace then to blush, and I continued, "No matter, we understand your bemusement and have shared it. We have decided that there is special magic at work in our bond."

Legolas next spoke. "You saw me slip out with Ravenna evening last? I felt your eyes upon me." Aragorn nodded. "I rejected her advances in favor of our meeting later, but you were too exhausted." Our friend's voice was teasing.

"To my lasting disappointment." Aragorn smiled back.

"Well, know this, I have not been released since by your hands two days ago, here in this room." The very words were stirring Aragorn, and his nostrils flared.

"Nor I for three days," said I, in good humor, "as I was not invited to your last afternoon tryst. And neither at my own hands," I added quietly for good measure, sending Aragorn's eyebrows upward. 

"We have contrived a way to ease your mind, Aragorn. I ask that you restrain yourself, and do not injure either of us before you see this through to its ending." Legolas' voice was thick with mirth, and Aragorn could not help but grin. I felt Legolas step toward me.

My friend offered his hand and led me to the bed. Aragorn's smile faded a little at that. I began to open my gown to draw it off, perhaps in an overly matter-of-fact manner, and Legolas stilled my hands. He nimbly undid the laces himself and pressed the garment slowly down over my shoulders, kissing as he went. Then, he let it rustle dramatically to my feet. I understood that he teased Aragorn with my clothing, and I hid my smile against his shoulder.

I followed his lead, and did likewise with his shirt, letting my hands glide slowly down his skin. He lifted my hair and nipped playfully in the crook of my neck. I did not look at Aragorn but I could hear his quickened breath, whether from apprehension or something else. Legolas then swept the silk chemise over my head, causing my hair to spill back over me, and leaving me otherwise naked.

When I actually sank to my knees and put my hands to the soft cloth and lacings in front of me, I felt that Aragorn forcefully restrained himself from moving to me. This was a moment of truth, despite all confidence, for the ingredient of Aragorn's presence could alone be an aphrodisiac to either of us. And I am skilled. Some arrogant part of me thought I might overcome the shield between us, even though that was not what I wanted. 

I drew the leggings down and off, stroking the muscles of his flat belly and long limbs as I went. Legolas was relaxed and stood easy, paying full attention to me. When at last, I took him in my mouth, tasting him directly for the first time, I was prepared for no response. None came, save the soft touch of his hands on my hair. I paid kindness to his splendid flesh in earnest for several minutes before determining it was enough. Even without arousal, I enjoyed this intimacy, his flavor and texture were pleasant to my tongue. I placed a final kiss and smiled up at him.

"Do not worry, I find no insult in your stillness," I whispered. At that, he scooped me up in his arms and tossed me onto the bed.

"Come here, Aragorn," he commanded in a low voice that would halt armies, "stand by her." Legolas then knelt on the bed, at my shoulder. His mouth covered mine, his tongue soft and inquisitive. For long minutes, he kissed me, with no hurry. Then, he moved to my ears, throat, the undercurve of my breast, and my navel, touching in all the ways to which he had seen me respond in my husband's arms. 

My skin did not even tighten, and I repressed a silly giggle. That seemed to challenge him, and his hand continued onward over my belly and lower, his fingers resting to circle smoothly and firmly for a slow time, not dipping into me but intending to inflame. I remained as if untouched. Legolas kept his gaze locked to mine the entire time. I told his mind that I loved him, that I felt safe, that all was well. His eyes did not leave me when he next spoke.

"There is more I would try, Aragorn, with my mouth, but it would spoil your feeling what is there now and what is not. " His voice was light and he kissed me again. He took Aragorn's hand and pressed it between my legs, guiding the brown fingers both over and inside me. The spell lifted for Aragorn's touch, and I could feel again in the way of lovers. Legolas sensed this change and gently withdrew his own hand.

"Do you still doubt us, love?" I asked, knowing Aragorn could feel that I was not yet aroused, "Hurry and decide, for your touch has already changed the tide."

"My darlings," he murmured, his hand still caressing me, so that my breath caught, "please forgive me my stupid, human ways." 

Legolas graced him with that dazzling smile. "There is nothing to forgive. You have accepted our lesson gracefully." 

"I cannot say I have accepted it gracefully," he replied, sliding his other hand between his own legs, outlining substantial hardness through his breeches, "I find at the end of this lesson that I wish my teachers felt otherwise. Have you no idea how astonishing you are together? Even without passion." He groaned. "Were you but witless toys, Legolas, I would have her ride you for my _own_ pleasure, and I doubt any spell in which you believe would hold for that."

Legolas and I looked at him, speechless. Apparently, there were things yet to learn about humans.

Aragorn tore at his own laces and without prompting, Legolas slid to his belly on the bed, propped himself on his elbows, and took what sprang forth from Aragorn's breeches into his mouth with a hungry sound, a sound that felt like a hand on me. 

Leaning over the edge of the bed, I drew a ribbon from my discarded dress and reached to tie back the long fall of his hair so that it would not hinder him, enjoying its sensual texture as it slid through my fingers.

Aragorn's eyes were on the small of Legolas' sleek back which curved behind on the bed, the white legs bent casually so that his heels nearly touched his rump. Aragorn reached to grasp the graceful ankles to steady himself, his own feet braced wide on the floor. Legolas paid such smooth attention to his task that one movement melded into the next, and a rhythm began to build of its own accord, pulling Aragorn along with it.

I still felt that my husband retained too much control, long practiced, when he should learn also to abandon himself. I quietly slid to the floor behind him. Legolas caught my eye, and his gaze twinkled in returned mischief. I stroked my hands up Aragorn's thighs and felt them flex, moved on to stroke his flanks along the little hollow of muscle at his hipbones, then let my lips trace down along the cleft of his buttocks, following with my fingers. 

He thrust forward at that, encountering the resistance of wet mouth and firm hands. A soft cry escaped him, and I slid one hand between his thighs to twine with one of Legolas' hands, caressing the tender flesh we both held. That nearly buckled Aragorn's legs.

He threw his head back and I felt him explode outward, pushing hard into Legolas' mouth. Equal to the task, and aroused himself, Legolas began to moan as he swallowed in counterpoint to Aragorn's cries which first rose and then fell to gasps. My ears hummed with their pleasure. 

When Aragorn stilled, I released Legolas' hand, feeling the little squeeze he gave me first, knowing his depth of feeling. In a more few moments, I felt Aragorn's legs cease to tremble. He straightened and reached to lift me from the floor. He drew a deep breath and climbed onto the bed, drawing me down next to him. 

"Turn over, Legolas," he said. Legolas complied, settling himself near me, his level of arousal obvious. I turned my head and admired the lovely profile of his face as he exchanged a heated look with Aragorn.

Aragorn moved to sit between us. "I believe I owe you both something special."

I smiled at him. "Who shall have the relief of being first, my love, and who shall have the greater pleasure of being last?"

"I find I cannot decide," he replied. With his left hand, he grasped Legolas firmly, and stroked him once the full length, up, then down. Legolas shuddered. I started to turn onto my side to better watch, but Aragorn's hand on my hip stopped me and pressed me back. It then slid across my belly and between my thighs. I gasped.

"Perhaps, there is no need to decide," Aragorn's voice was silky and warm, and his hands teased.

Legolas quivered again. He reached for my hand, interweaving our fingers. "Then, do not decide. Do your worst."

I could feel them linking at the same time that Aragorn's fingers and thumb moved in earnest to please me. Legolas' hand and arm strained against mine, bracing as Aragorn stroked him. 

Aragorn's pupils were dark and large as he looked down upon me, then back to Legolas. I could be still no longer and moved against his hand. This triggered a similar response in Legolas, and his back arched off the bed. 

I think I was the first to sing, followed closely by my friend. My knees drew back with the force of it, and Legolas came so hard that I felt the hot slap of his semen across my leg. When I opened my eyes, Aragorn's chest was dripping with the rest of it, and he wore a mightily satisfied smile.

"My loves, I look forward indeed to any further lessons you wish to teach me."  
*******


End file.
